


the sun in your eyes and the sand beneath your feet

by zantetsvkens



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Brazil Arc, Character Study, Fluff, Getting Together, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Mild Sexual Content, Post-Timeskip, Romance, theyre in love your honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25772635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zantetsvkens/pseuds/zantetsvkens
Summary: On the other side of the world in a place where only the sand meets the sea, Oikawa Tooru creates memories that flow like the ocean breeze, short and fleeting yet lasting for a lifetime and more as he falls in love with a boy who fished the sun out of the sky and made the sun's light his own.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 29
Kudos: 211





	the sun in your eyes and the sand beneath your feet

**Author's Note:**

> Be warned that there is mild sexual content in this fic (as in they get naked and appreciate looking at each other's bodies), but there are no graphic depictions of sex which is why I rated it as mature rather than explicit. 
> 
> If you'd like to skip the stuff that edges into nsfw territory it starts at around "Tooru dives in with purpose" and ends at "Tooru wants to fall asleep in his arms". Anything after this is purely suggestive, contains implied sexual content, and they make out at several points throughout the rest of the fic.
> 
> so in any case i started this on july 6th at exactly 2am because i was suddenly struck with the thought _oh, i really miss oikawa_ and then 402 happened and. well. yeah. originally this was supposed to stay around the 2k mark but clearly that did not happen because oikawa tooru is a powerful as fuck man and made me spit this out in a whole month _and_ made me delve into writing borderline smut i can't fucking believe him. anyways, this started as a character study but then oihina brainrot took over so. here's my love letter to the most powerful man in the world and the only man ever.

There’s sand beneath his feet, the blanket of gritty grains harsh and yielding to no one, least of all to Tooru who’s never played a day of beach volleyball in his entire life.

He’s never imagined picking up beach volleyball, not after he had packed up his bags and jetted off halfway across the world, leaving his home and everything familiar to him behind to play in a league with unknown players in an unknown place while simultaneously struggling with a language that he barely even knew.

He never could have imagined that he would be here, standing upon the boardwalks on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro and meeting the gaze of a boy that stared up at him like Tooru was his entire world, like Tooru held all the stars in the sky and more within the palm of his hand.

It’s said that there are approximately seven point eight billion people on Earth. Nearly four-hundred and thirty million in South America alone. Out of the however many millions of people there are in Brazil, Tooru never could have imagined that he would stumble upon the one person he had  _ least  _ expected to see here on the other side of the world and _ yet— _

And yet there he was, standing right before Tooru in the flesh, smile bright and blinding and seeming so familiar despite the fact that Tooru could count on one hand the number of times he’s ever spoken to the little wing spiker that made humans believe they could learn how to fly.

Here was Hinata Shouyou, no longer looking like the little shrimpy kid he had met back in his third year of high school. 

Here was Hinata Shouyou, whose appearance brought about the storm that had simultaneously crushed all the hopes and dreams Tooru ever had of bringing Seijoh to victory, to nationals. 

Here was Hinata Shouyou, now broad and tan and looking for all the world like he  _ belonged  _ here under the sun in Rio and not back in Japan playing on the court’s like the little giant he is supposed to be.

It’s a bit ridiculous really, Tooru thinks. The odds of him meeting Hinata here, on this very boardwalk in Rio where the sands gave way to whistling waves and another whole world of unknowns Tooru was sure he never would have approached on his own accord.

Hinata is just as bewildered as Tooru, but he’s ecstatic, bouncing around on the balls of his feet and speaking in a language Tooru has only ever heard through the speakers of a phone in the past couple of years.

It makes his heart ache, just a little bit.

Hinata still calls him the Great King, and Tooru finds it rather endearing that Hinata has stuck to using it all this time even after so many years apart. With Hinata standing before him Tooru naturally decides to invite him out to dinner. Tooru is hungry and Hinata’s always had a sort of vice-like grip on Tooru’s curiosity, so why wouldn’t he? He could always eat with his teammates another day, but Hinata? It was a once in a lifetime chance and Tooru was going to take it by the reins and enjoy every second of it.

* * *

Hinata is as entertaining and interesting as Tooru remembers. He’s glad that Hinata hasn’t lost that bit of himself despite having so obviously changed and grown over the years, and Tooru takes comfort in the familiarity.

They eat dinner, sharing food and drinks and laughs as if they had been best friends for years, and once they finish their meal they say their thanks and make a trip back down to the beach.

They talk about why Tooru decided to come halfway across the world to play volleyball. Tooru asks why Hinata decided to switch to beach.

_ For training.  _ Hinata had said.

And then all too suddenly Tooru remembers the look in his eyes, feels the sting from where the ball had ricocheted off of his arm in their last official match against each other. He remembers watching their game at Nationals, seeing the little bird get his wings clipped despite his desire to fly.

The feeling of getting taken off the court and being subbed out for another is a feeling that Tooru remembers all too well. He understands Hinata’s overwhelming need to grow stronger, to grow better. Brazil offered him everything that Japan couldn’t and Tooru supposes that travelling halfway across the world to train isn’t the most wildest thing anyone’s ever done. 

Tooru was here after all, and if that didn’t explain it all he doesn’t know what will.

Hinata invites him out to play, tells him that the locals stay late and that they could too if Tooru wanted to. Tooru wants to, and Hinata must have seen something in his eyes for in the next moment he’s offering Tooru a hand and a smile that could eclipse the sun if he so wanted it to.

But Tooru’s never played a day of beach volleyball in his entire life.

He’s never played a day of beach volleyball in his entire life, but that’s all the more reason for him to try it because it never hurts to try something new, never hurts to try something that is so familiar yet so different from the sport that he’s decided to dedicate his entire life to. 

Tooru doesn’t hesitate when he takes the hand extended out to him. He willingly steps into the sands which no longer hold the heat of the sun and follows the fire that burned within one Hinata Shouyou—a boy who he’s only ever known as a player on the other side of the net—and joins his side.

* * *

Beach volleyball is hard. That much is a given. Tooru should have expected it really, because the difference is that the sand does not obey the same rules as the polished floors of indoor courts which is to say that it just  _ does not stay still.  _

Tooru’s feet sink into the sand with his every step, making his jumps less than abysmal and his blocks barely existent. He slides around the court as he goes to dig a ball and scrapes his knees on the coarse grains that would no doubt disappear come daybreak. When he goes to serve, Tooru learns that it’s not just the sand that he has to worry about, but the wind too.

The wind is about as unrelenting as the sand, picking up balls and blowing them off course, affecting every aspect of the game and forcing Tooru to adjust, adjust, and adjust. 

It felt odd being unable to do the movements that he should be able to execute with ease. It felt odd to be starting at the first rung of the ladder rather than to be standing on top of the pedestal that he had spent so painstakingly long climbing his way up to. It felt odd to be an amateur compared to Hinata’s expertise, who Tooru only remembers as being a diamond in the rough, shining and glimmering brightly amid a murder of crows.

Tooru runs and leaps and dives and he doesn’t remember a time where he’s had to hustle as hard as he’s doing now but this feeling—the feeling of pushing his body to the limit against the harsh sands and the pleasant ache in his muscles that comes with the exertion—it’s refreshing.

They end up losing all their games that day, but Hinata doesn’t seem to mind. Hinata doesn’t seem to mind that Tooru’s technical skills are about as good as a bumbling newborn fawn’s and he doesn’t seem to mind the fact that nine times out of ten Tooru ended up eating sand instead of receiving the ball.

Tooru, in turn, doesn’t mind that half of the time the laughter spilling from Hinata’s lips was directed at him. Tooru ends up laughing with Hinata until his stomach starts to hurt and he’s doubled over in the sand right beside him, because what else can he do at a time like this when everything about this situation is just so  _ bizarre? _

Tooru laughs with Hinata—whose laughter echoes in the air, loud and addicting and so full of life—and feels like all the weight of the world has lifted from his shoulders. 

It’s been a while since he’s laughed this hard, Tooru thinks. It’s a good feeling.

* * *

The weather was being blessedly kind to them, and Tooru spends his days at the beach playing game after game with Hinata. Shaky digs turn into reliable receives and awkward sets become pinpoint accurate. Tooru learns to make a second home out of the sand the same way Hinata had done, but where Tooru still fumbles on occasion, Hinata stands firm and reliable.

It’s reassuring really, having Hinata standing at his back, ready to cover the holes that he can’t.

They’re in the middle of another game with the heat of the sun beating down upon their backs and Tooru is sweating buckets. He’s probably going to get a real nice tan after all of this is over, but he’s content and he’s exactly where he wants to be.

Tooru just barely manages to get in a decent receive, and as he goes in for the run-up he watches Hinata take a clean first step that has the pads of Tooru’s fingers itching. 

He wants to be the one tossing, wants to make Hinata—strong, reliable Hinata—soar.

But Hinata, though in no position to fly as of current, can spread his wings on his own now. Tooru watches Hinata leap up—one, two, and ten fingers connecting with the ball as he sets to Tooru with a perfect form that he knew Hinata never would have had all those years ago.

Hinata may not be the one spiking, may not be the one jumping among the clouds at this very moment in time, but volleyball was never a single-player sport. If Hinata couldn’t fly now, then Tooru would do it for him.

The ball speeds through the air in a perfect arc, and Tooru jumps to slam it home.

He misses. Granted, he still  _ hit _ the ball, but the powerful spike that it was supposed to be had turned into a dink and though it still got them the point Tooru wasn’t satisfied. The road to improvement was a long one, and Tooru knew he’d be stuck on it for a long while.

Hinata comes bounding up to him, bright eyed and smiling as he claps Tooru on the back with one strong hand.

“Oikawa-san,” Hinata begins, and Tooru is drawn in by the sound of his voice, deeper and rougher than how he remembered it being when they were younger. “You’re getting a lot better!”

And what Hinata said was true. His timing was still off, but he was steadily improving the more he played. Tooru wouldn’t be reaching Hinata’s level of expertise any time soon, but by the end of his week-long stay in Rio it would be a relatively close thing.

The clouds are starting to roll in now, bringing with it the threat of rain and turning the sky into a dull, dreary gray. Tooru glances at Hinata who glances back at Tooru, and they decide to wordlessly dive into another game anyways.

It comes down as a slight drizzle at first, hardly noticeable amid all the movement happening out on the court, but then suddenly the heavens are roaring, thunder booming so loud it makes Tooru flinch and miss his set. Lightning arcs across the sky, the floodgates open, and they’re caught in the middle of a sudden, full on downpour.

The rain is coming down upon them hard, and Tooru scrambles to grab his belongings alongside Hinata, throwing their wallets and phones into one of their bags, it doesn't matter who’s. They collect their shoes and heave their bags over their shoulders, and then Hinata’s suddenly grabbing Tooru’s wrist and booking it in the direction of the closest cluster of buildings.

They duck beneath the overhang of one of the nearby shops, chests heaving and absolutely drenched to the bone with rainwater streaming down their skin like rivers. With the other locals also taking shelter from the rain, Tooru and Hinata have no choice but to huddle closely together as if they were a pack of sardines. 

Tooru doesn’t mind, not really. Despite the chill that is beginning to set into his bones due to the rain, Hinata is warm against his side. Tooru lets himself lean into Hinata just a little bit, because Tooru is selfish and won’t admit to his face that maybe he’s been carrying a torch for the sun and has been for quite a while.

But then Hinata is leaning into him too, easily shifting to make himself comfortable against Tooru’s side and Tooru’s breath catches in his throat. He chances a glance down at Hinata, only to find him thoughtfully staring out at the abandoned beaches and the pelting rain.

“I didn’t think it’d be raining today.” Hinata says. Raindrops are stuck to his eyelashes like crystallized tears, and Tooru reaches out without thinking to wipe them away.

He jumps slightly at the touch, making Tooru freeze in his tracks as soon as he realizes what he’s doing. Tooru freezes in place, watching as Hinata turns his head just enough to look back at Tooru. He isn’t moving away. Why isn’t he moving away? 

There’s something in his eyes that Tooru can’t quite identify. It was almost as if Hinata was searching for something, his gaze roaming all over Tooru’s face before finally settling on his eyes. Tooru doesn’t quite know what to make of this. What does it all mean?

He goes to draw his hand away, but then Hinata is reaching up, gently brushing away the wet strands of hair that’s plastered to Tooru’s forehead and Tooru has the sudden urge to throw himself right into the ocean. He can’t help the flush that creeps its way up his cheeks at the intimate gesture, and he  _ knows  _ that this fact isn’t lost on Hinata whose eyes might be sparkling a bit too brightly.

“Oikawa-san,” Hinata’s voice is low, only loud enough for his ears to hear over the rain. “Do you want to head back to my place? To dry off? It’s near here.”

Tooru feels like he shouldn’t. He doesn’t know why, but it feels like if he were to accept this invitation he would be committing a sin big enough that it would slight even the gods in heaven and the demons in the world down below. 

He wonders why he feels this way. 

Perhaps it’s because he’s found a friend in Hinata, one who he can take comfort in to stand by his side and cherish for as long as he lives. But it’s Hinata who is offering, going so far as to  _ invite  _ Tooru to his home and well, Tooru’s always been known to follow his heart and he’s not about to stop now. 

Oikawa Tooru is a fool, but he’s a fool who’s in love. If the gods and the demons were to be angry at him for accepting his offer, then that’s just how it’ll be. He could always deal with the consequences later.

Mutely nodding his head, he let’s Hinata slip his hand into his, twining their fingers together as he gently tugs Tooru away. They slip from under one awning to the next, dodging people and objects alike as Hinata leads Tooru through the streets of Rio. 

They’re almost at Hinata’s apartment complex when the awnings above doorways disappear and turn into nothing more than porch lights and balcony windows. They’re in the last stretch of their journey, and though they would have no protection from the elements from here on out they weren’t about to let a little rain stop them. 

They make a run for it, speeding through the rain that’s still going strong, shoes slapping against cobblestone and Hinata’s hand in his. By the time they get inside Hinata’s apartment they’re completely soaked to the bone once more, dripping enough water to create a small pond in the entryway of the quaint little home with sunshine yellow walls and miniature sand dunes at the front door.

They’re bent over and huffing for breath, and Tooru is feeling a little bit cold again from being exposed to the rain. He looks over at Hinata only to find him already staring back. For the briefest of moments they do nothing but gaze at each other, but then Tooru feels laughter bubbling up from the pit of his stomach and can tell that Hinata must be feeling the same way too because his lips are wobbling like he’s trying to hold it in.

They don’t last for more than a minute, unable to resist the temptation of letting their laughter run free. Tooru isn’t quite sure what they’re laughing about, but that doesn’t really matter, not when they’re doubling over and leaning on each other for support.

Hinata is warm against his side, and this time Tooru doesn’t resist. He reaches out to grab Hinata, to pull him close and never let go. Hinata falls into him, pressing a gentle kiss to the palm of Tooru’s hand when he brings it up to cup his face. Tooru warms at the touch, and Hinata smiles so sweetly it steals his breath away.

Tooru pulls him into a kiss, or maybe it was Hinata that pulled him in first. Tooru doesn’t know, doesn’t really care who made the first move to go further, to cross the line between friends and into something more.

The kiss is slow and tentative at first, but it soon becomes more frantic, more hurried as Hinata bites down on his bottom lip with insistence and Tooru does his best to exercise his restraint and not devour him right then and there.

He pulls away to catch his breath, to look Hinata in the eyes. He wants to make sure that this is what he wants, that this isn’t just a spur of the moment thing, that Tooru is the one that he really wants and that what they’re about to do isn’t going to be something that he will regret—

—But Hinata’s eyes have never been clearer.

Tooru licks his lips, watches as Hinata’s eyes follow the movement with interest. He flicks his gaze back up to meet Tooru’s, dark eyes watching him, and tilts his head in invitation. 

Tooru dives in with purpose, intent on breathing air into Hinata’s lungs and having his breath taken in turn. The kiss is heated, a frenzy full of lips and teeth and tongue. Tooru draws Hinata impossibly closer, hands tightly gripping his waist, wandering up his back and slipping beneath the damp fabric of his shirt. Hinata tangles his fingers in Tooru’s hair and tugs, drawing a moan out of Tooru’s throat.

And then Hinata is suddenly pulling away and Tooru, for the briefest of moments, wonders if he’s done something wrong. Hinata must see the thoughts written across his face—is Tooru making a face? He isn’t quite sure—but in the next moment Hinata is leaning up to give him a reassuring kiss and oh, Tooru realizes. He’s not upset. He never was.

“Bedroom?” Hinata asks. There’s amusement dancing across his lips, in his eyes, and his fingers are toying with the hair at the base of Tooru’s neck. 

The touch is distracting, and it’s making it hard for Tooru to think. He wants to feel those fingers upon his skin, wonders what they would feel like wrapped around him,  _ inside  _ him. It takes Tooru a bit to respond, long enough for Hinata to start peppering him with kisses across his cheek, his nose, his collarbone as he patiently waits for a reply he knows Tooru will give.

“Yeah.” Tooru eventually manages. His voice is rough and husky and deep, giving away everything he’s feeling in the moment. He does nothing to hide it, letting Hinata see how affected Tooru is just by being with him and him alone. 

Hinata’s eyes darken and he licks his lips, slides his hand down Tooru’s arms slowly, sensually, keeping his touch light and lighting a trail of fire in his wake. He takes ahold of Tooru’s hand and leads them backwards, further into the dimly lit apartment and through one of the open doorways on the right.

The moment they enter the room Tooru barely has enough time to kick the door shut behind him before Hinata is on him. Tooru’s pulled into a searing kiss that makes him weak in the knees and he scrambles to divest Hinata of all the clothing he has on him in turn.

His bag goes first, the straps clumsily slipping from Hinata’s shoulders and onto the carpet beneath their feet. This is quickly followed by Hinata’s shorts, his boxers, and finally his shirt where Tooru has to break the kiss to quickly pull it over his head.

Hinata takes the time to strip Tooru of his own clothes too, peeling off each article of clothing with haste and with record breaking speeds. Tooru can’t help but be amused, but the moment his shirt is off and over his head he’s pulling Hinata back into a kiss and lifting him up off of his feet.

Hinata tightly wraps his legs around Tooru’s waist, arms wrapped around his neck as he presses deep, open mouthed kisses to his lips, his neck, sucks and bites on the skin there until it’s blooming red with hickies.

Tooru squeezes Hinata’s ass, kneading the soft flesh between his fingers as he carries Hinata over to the bed and lays him down upon the sheets. Their skin is still damp from the rain and their soaked clothing, but Tooru doesn’t mind the slick, slippery feeling as he presses Hinata into the mattress, the bare skin of their chests sliding against each other feeling almost electric to him. 

Hinata on the other hand seems to almost revel in the sensation as he moans into the kiss and arches into Tooru’s touch. He rakes his nails down Tooru’s back and tugs on his hair, but the actions aren’t painful, far from it really because Tooru can feel his arousal spiking even higher.

Leaning back to catch his breath, Tooru takes the time to admire Hinata under the light of the moon. Panting through kiss-swollen lips, Hinata appreciatively eyes Tooru’s body, gaze roaming from his face to his chest to his thighs and finally his cock. Hinata’s legs, thick and corded with muscle, were spread wide open for him and inviting him in, not a hint of shyness, timidity, hesitancy or whatever other word Tooru’s previous partner’s often felt whenever he took them to bed for the first time. 

It’s the most beautiful sight Tooru’s ever seen.

He wants to devour him, wants to make Hinata his by marking up his skin and showing them off to the world so that everyone knows that Hinata Shouyou is already taken and belongs to Tooru and Tooru alone _.  _ Tooru wants to take him, be taken by him, wants to hold him in his arms and kiss him stupid until he can’t remember his own name anymore. 

Tooru wants to fall asleep in his arms, wants to wake up to see his face bathed in the early morning sunlight today and tomorrow and the next day after that. Tooru wants to hold his hand and give him bear hugs, wants to pepper kisses on the bridge of his nose and all over his face, wants to hear his laugh that chimes like the tinkling of bells and be the one to put a bright smile on his adorably cute face which shines like the fucking sun.

Tooru wants to stand on the court across from him, stand on the same side of the net with him. Tooru wants to beat him, wants to set to him, wants to see him fly and bring the world down upon its knees and be there by his side as he does it.

And Tooru realizes then with startling clarity, that he wants to spend the rest of his entire life with him.

“...Tooru?” Hinata murmurs, propping his body up slightly with one arm as he reaches out with his free hand to cup Tooru’s cheek. “What are you thinking about?”

Tooru is burning. His mind was in the midst of crashing along the coast of Copacabana Beach, never to resurface from the sand and to forever be washed away by the waves to the depths of the ocean floor. 

Hinata said his name. Hinata said his name, and Tooru felt all the joy in the world seep into his veins, into every crevice of his body, into his very soul and then some because  _ Hinata said his name _ . 

But then Tooru remembers that whatever it is that they’re doing might not last, that whatever it is that they are might just be a fleeting fling and nothing more. 

“Tooru?” Hinata is staring up at him with concern now, bringing both of his hands up to cradle his face. “What’s wrong?”

Tooru takes in a shaky breath, leans forward to rest his forehead against Hinata’s.

“Hey, Hinata, what are we?” Tooru asks, because he needs to know. He needs to know whether or not this is a one-time thing or whether or not whatever it is that they have going on between them is something that Tooru can make last a lifetime.

Hinata blinks, then huffs out a small laugh. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and Tooru meets his gaze and sees nothing but infinite amounts of patience and adoration.

“We can be whatever it is that you want us to be.” Hinata says, as if it’s the most simplest answer in the world.

Tooru distantly registers the fact that his hands are shaking as he brings them up to cup Hinata’s face, and he watches as Hinata sinks into his touch, nuzzling into one of his palms and pressing a tender kiss there.

It makes Tooru want to cry.

“Then… then if I asked you to be mine, would you?” Tooru whispers.

“Of course.” Hinata murmurs. “But only if you start calling me Shouyou.”

The rush of emotions is something Tooru both expects but is not entirely prepared for. Hinata—no,  _ Shouyou  _ didn’t reject him. This wasn’t just a fling, a one-night stand where they would do the deed and forget it ever happened the next day. This was something that Tooru could make work, was something that Tooru would be allowed to hang onto and make the most out of and if he was lucky enough, would be able to keep Shouyou by his side for all the days to come and more.

“Shouyou,” Tooru presses a kiss to the palm of Shouyou’s hand, his knuckles, his wrist. 

“Shouyou,” The crook of his arm, his bicep, his shoulder. 

_ “Shouyou.” _ His collarbone, the side of his jaw, his cheek. 

Tooru chants his name like a prayer, each kiss a sign of reverence, of worship, a vow of loyalty and love and a promise to their future. 

Shouyou holds him like he’s a gift from the universe, gentle and kind and loving but not at all like Tooru was made of glass, like he was about to break. His grip is firm and solid, grounding Tooru and letting him know that Shouyou was here and he’s here to stay.

“I’m yours, Tooru.” 

He kisses him, deep and slow, and conveys all of his emotions through just one simple gesture. The feelings that flow through him make Tooru’s heart want to burst.

He’s so in love.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight if you’re not up for it.” Shouyou mumbles into the kiss and Tooru feels his heart swell.

How could one man have so much love to give?

In all the years Tooru has known him, Tooru’s come to understand that Shouyou has always been special. He’s always had a big heart, giving away love to those who surrounded him be it in a platonic sense, in a romantic sense, or in another way. 

Shouyou is a man who shined like the sun among the sea of stars in the brilliant night sky. The world orbits around him—people come and go, naturally drawn into his space like a moth to a flame. He changes the lives of those he meets, makes them better and happier with just a simple smile and a wave.

Tooru was no exception to this, except this time instead of just being offered a heart he’s giving his own in return. Shouyou is willing to meet him halfway, is willing to wait for him to catch up when really it should have been the other way around.

Tooru wasn’t going to let him wait, not for long. Tooru would meet him there at the halfway mark, because Tooru is determined to give Shouyou the world and to give him the world he would have to begin with taking a step in the right direction.

Every journey always begins with a single step, and this one was no different.

Tooru pulls back, letting Shouyou see that there’s not a cloud of doubt in his eyes, in his very being. Tooru wants what Shouyou is willing to give, wants to be there for all his highs and lows and inbetweens. He’s entrusting his heart to him, and he hopes that Shouyou would be willing to do the same.

“Shouyou,” Tooru mumbles as he presses a kiss to his temple. “If you still want to, we can.”

Shouyou closes his eyes and lets the feeling of being loved wash over him. “Are you sure, Tooru?”

Tooru brings him into another kiss, slow and gentle. “I’ve never been more sure in my life.”

Hinata smiles, and it’s like the first ray of light breaking through the clouds on a cold winter day. “Then, please take care of me.”

“I should be the one saying that.” Tooru laughs, and Shouyou laughs with him before reeling him in for a kiss.

Tooru melts into Shouyou, who kisses him like he’s the only one in the world and by god has a kiss never felt so  _ right.  _ Shouyou swaps their positions and lays Tooru back against the sheets. He straddles his waist, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his jaw, his neck, and leaves love bites in his wake that Tooru will have trouble covering up in the days to come. 

Shouyou traces light patterns down his arms, his chest, his thighs. Tooru digs his fingers into Shouyou’s waist hard enough to bruise. He traces the shell of Shouyou’s ear with his tongue, drawing out a soft moan that makes heat pool low in his stomach and pleasure run down his spine.

He wants to hear more, wants to listen to Shouyou make all sorts of sounds because it sounds like music to his ears.

They make love into the early hours of the evening, taking turns giving and receiving pleasure until they’re both sated and content. Exhaustion weighs them down, sinking deep into their bones to the point where they drift off to sleep in each other’s arms.

Tooru has never been happier.

* * *

The days Tooru has in Rio are limited, but he makes the most out of them as best as he can. He spends his days with Shouyou who, when not at work, takes Tooru to the beach to play volleyball or back to his apartment where they have sex and bask in the afternoon light, wrapped in each other’s arms and whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears or telling jokes and laughing like it’s nobody’s business.

They go out to eat every so often, but Shouyou’s been taking it upon himself to cook them some breakfast, lunch, and dinner because he refuses to let Tooru treat him for every meal of the day. Tooru insists that it’s not a big deal, but Shouyou is relentless. 

They eat their meals that taste both familiar and foreign to Tooru’s tongue and spend their resting periods watching movies or going sightseeing. Shouyou shows him all the interesting places he’s discovered in the time he’s been in Rio, and Tooru dutifully follows after him like a knight would his king. 

In the quiet lull of the night, when the neighbours are asleep and the birds that soar through the skies have gone to bed, Tooru lays next to Shouyou and presses kisses into the dips between his spine and runs calloused fingers over broad muscles and tanned skin. 

Shouyou steals the air from his lungs and breathes life through his lips, uses skilled fingers to make Tooru come undone and bites promises into his skin that Tooru wears with pride.

They make plans for their future in the rare moments where they lie awake in bed after a round or two of sex, and it’s a sobering conversation that neither of them want to have but must address anyways. 

Tooru knows that he cannot stay by Shouyou’s side forever. His life lies elsewhere, in Argentina where the courts are his home and the solid, reliable floors are beneath his feet. Argentina is where there’s the smell of leather between the palm of his hands and the feeling of high fives and slaps upon his back. Argentina is familiar, it is where Tooru has learned to grow into himself and discover the upper edges of his limits.

Argentina is Tooru’s home, but it is not Rio. Argentina is Tooru’s home, but it will never be Shouyou’s because like Tooru, Shouyou’s life lies elsewhere.

Rio is where Shouyou is meant to be. Rio is where the people welcome him and make him feel right at home among the sands that let him start anew. Rio is where the tides lap upon the sandy beaches in the late afternoons and the salty breeze carries with it the winds of change and memories of Tooru’s time spent there. Rio is where Shouyou’s future lies, where Shouyou can unlock his own potential and reach new heights.

Rio is Shouyou’s home, but it is not Argentina. Rio is Shouyou’s home, but it will never be Tooru’s and though Rio is right next door to Argentina, the distance between them will always feel greater.

But Tooru didn’t get to where he is now without effort and perseverance, didn’t get to where he is now if he didn’t have the single-minded determination to change the winds of fate with his own two hands so what made keeping up a long distance relationship any different?

Tooru wants to make this relationship work, and can tell that Shouyou does too. 

On a bright Thursday afternoon Shouyou sees Tooru off at the airport, giving him a parting hug and a kiss that Tooru will hold close to his heart in all the days to come. Tooru returns to Argentina and his team, goes hard in practice and even harder in games, and does his damn best to make Shouyou the happiest man alive despite the distance between them. 

They text and call and video call whenever they have a moment to spare, and Tooru’s lost track of the amount of times either he or Shouyou have fallen asleep while talking on the phone with one another.

Tooru decides to start waking up early, rising with the sun at dawn and falling asleep to the sound of Shouyou’s voice, gentle like the ocean waves on a calm summer’s eve. Tooru misses his touch, misses holding Shouyou in his arms and being held in turn, but Tooru supposes that what they have now isn’t too bad either.

Seeing Shouyou’s face even if it’s only through the screen of his phone or his laptop, is enough for Tooru. He hopes it’s enough for Shouyou too.

* * *

One month and ten days after Tooru has left Rio, there is a knock upon his front door. Tooru’s not entirely sure who it is, but he’s certain that he hasn’t ordered any food and doesn’t have any packages en route for delivery any time soon. His teammates don’t often drop by unannounced, and his neighbours are unlikely to bother him at this time of day so Tooru has no idea who it could be, but he gets up to answer the door all the same.

He leaves the tv on, the channel broadcasting a soap opera that he had been half-heartedly following all morning long, and shuffles over to the front door decked out in a pair of bunny slippers, boxers, and an old t-shirt that might have belonged to Iwaizumi at some point or another. His hair is being held back by an array of colorful hair clips that would put a child’s prized collection to shame, and his trusty glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, allowing Tooru the gift of HD vision which he would have had if he hadn’t gotten the bad eyesight genes in the family.

He opens the front door and is promptly stunned into silence by the sight before him.

Shouyou is there, standing on the front steps of his home with an overnight bag in his hands. He’s rocking back and forth upon the soles of his feet and humming a soft tune beneath his breath, but when he catches sight of Tooru he flashes him a smile so bright that it’s almost blinding.

“Shouyou?!” Tooru sputters, absolutely bewildered because he didn’t expect to see Shouyou so soon. He had been under the impression that it would be quite a while before he got to see Shouyou again in person, but here was Shouyou proving him wrong. Here was Shouyou, ever full of surprises, finding his way back to Tooru’s side when it was Tooru who wanted to be the one to find him first.

“Tooru,” Shouyou begins, but Tooru doesn’t give him a chance to finish his words because he’s too busy surging forward to pull Shouyou into a searing kiss that Shouyou is more than happy to return.

“You’re crazy.” Tooru mumbles as he buries his face into the crook of Shouyou’s neck, wraps his arms around the other so tightly that he can feel the rise and fall of his chest with every breath he takes. He tries not to cry from the surge of emotions that he’s feeling. “I should be the one going over to Rio to see you.”

Shouyou laughs, peppering soft kisses along Tooru’s collarbone that has Tooru melting into a puddle of mush at his touch. “And let you surprise me again? I don’t think so.” He hums before leaning his head against Tooru’s shoulder. “This okay?”

Tooru closes his eyes and feels the world tip back into equilibrium. With Shouyou by his side it no longer feels like a part of him is missing, like the final piece of a puzzle has finally been filled. Shouyou’s presence alone makes everything feel so right, like this is where Shouyou belongs in the world and where he’s meant to be.

“It’s more than okay.” Tooru breathes out, and he can feel his throat closing up and his eyes starting to water. He’s not going to cry, he’s not, except that maybe he is but he isn’t going to admit it.

“Are you  _ crying?”  _ Shouyou asks, amusement lacing his voice even as he gently pats Tooru’s back and embraces him even tighter.

“Not crying.” Tooru vehemently denies, but his words aren’t very convincing, not when there’s a sob climbing up his throat and tears escaping the corners of his eyes that drip down Shouyou’s neck and wet the edges of his shirt.

“You big baby.” Shouyou coos, raising himself up onto his tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to Tooru’s temple. “Come on, let’s go inside, okay?”

Tooru agrees easily, and once Shouyou has dragged them both back into the privacy of his home and shut the door behind him, he turns to Tooru and showers him with kisses and compliments until Tooru's tears have eased and the only evidence of his earlier breakdown consists of blotchy cheeks and puffy red eyes.

“Better?” Shouyou asks, squishing Tooru’s cheeks between his hands before leaning forward to peck him on the lips.

“Better.” Tooru mumbles and Shouyou grins, but it’s not a reassuring grin because Tooru can see the way the edges of his smile are turning into a smirk, can see the way his eyes are glinting with mischief. 

He can’t help but groan, and Shouyou’s grin widens.

“Did you really miss me that much?” He teases, and Tooru has the sudden urge to bury his face in his hands, or maybe just bury himself six feet under the ground. He’s not quite sure which one he wants to do yet. “If I had known that you missed me that much then I would have—”

Tooru chucks a decorative throw pillow at him before he could finish his sentence and nails him square in the head. Shouyou laughs and falls back against the couch cushions, but then immediately decides that retaliation is a must and promptly sits up to 1) remove Tooru’s glasses from his face, and then 2) slam the very same pillow Tooru had thrown at him back into Tooru’s face.

This little shit.

Tooru fights back, because Tooru isn’t a coward and he’s not going to back down from a fight. He grabs another pillow from the couch and whacks Shouyou in the side with it, and because Shouyou is Shouyou this eventually turns into a full-on pillow fight that has them running around the room and laughing their hearts out. 

They abandon their pillows at some point in favor of attempting to wrestle each other into submission, and this ends with Tooru pinning Shouyou to the couch and tickling his sides until he admits defeat. Shouyou squeals, trying and failing to squirm away from Tooru, but Tooru’s got a tight grip on him and isn’t planning to let him go any time soon. 

“O-Okay! Okay! You win Tooru, you win!” Shouyou wheezes out. His hair is disheveled from their earlier impromptu wrestling match and his cheeks are flushed a pretty shade of red from exertion. There’s tears gathered in the corner of his eyes from having laughed so hard, and Shouyou wipes them away with a shaky hand as he attempts to gather his breath. 

Tooru thinks he’s never looked more beautiful.

“You’re really pretty.” Tooru blurts out.

Shouyou stares up at him for a total of three whole seconds before he starts to crack up once again. Tooru feels the embarrassment settle into his bones, feels the way his face flames up at his accidental admission, but Shouyou’s laughter is rich and warm and wraps around Tooru, ringing in his ears and sinking deep into his bones. He wants to hear it for the rest of his life, even if it’s at his own expense.

When Shouyou finally calms down he reaches up with one hand to gently brush his fingers against Tooru’s cheek, a soft smile upon his lips. “Well, you aren’t too bad yourself.” He murmurs.

Tooru blinks and does his very best to not spontaneously combust on the spot right then and there. He instead decides to lay himself down on top of Shouyou, smothering him against the cushions and contemplates whether or not now is a good time to yell into the void about how much Shouyou means to him.

He ends up making a weird noise that’s a mix between a strangled squeak and a groan, and had Tooru been looking he might have seen the amused twist of Shouyou’s lips as he bore witness to Tooru having a meltdown over him for maybe the eighth time that day.

Shouyou wraps him up in a hug that lets him run his hands down Tooru’s back, kneading the knots out of his muscles with practiced fingers that has Tooru sighing in content. He feels the tension in his shoulders ease, and he slumps down further into the cushions, into Shouyou.

He feels one of Shouyou’s hands make its way up to his hair, raking through the soft strands upon Tooru’s head as he plucks out each individual hair clip one at a time, depositing them onto the nearby end table. Shouyou hums a random tune beneath his breath, one that Tooru isn’t quite familiar with, but he can feel the vibrations through Shouyou’s chest with each note that leaves his lips.

There’s a pair of lips gently pressing against his temple, and Tooru turns his head to face Shouyou, who’s gazing at him with eyes so soft that Tooru could practically feel the love and adoration radiating from his very being and  _ oh _ .

He loves him, he realizes. It’s not that Tooru’s never realized it, but it just never registered to him just  _ how much  _ Shouyou means to him. Tooru may be dead set on spending the rest of his life with him, but he’s never thought about how much he loves him because loving him just felt so natural.

Love as a whole is something Tooru’s never thought very deeply about. He’s had flings, passing romances that never amounted to anything more than a few dates or one-night stands, but love? Love is new, it’s foreign. The idealized version of love that Tooru’s grown up with from watching movies—the butterflies, the giddiness, the way the world feels like it just  _ stops  _ whenever Shouyou so much as just looks at him—it’s all of that and more.

To Tooru, love is the smell of the ocean, the early morning sunrises and the feeling of sand beneath his feet. Love is the way Shouyou shines beneath the sun in Rio, the way he blazes a path across the court in order to stretch his wings and fly. Love is the feeling of Tooru’s arm brushing against Shouyou’s as they cook dinner together in the evenings, the way Shouyou kisses him goodnight and the way Tooru greets him with a smile in the mornings.

Love, Tooru realizes, is Shouyou. 

Love is Shouyou—it’s every corner, every dip and curve that spans every inch of his body; it’s the little bits of his life that Tooru’s come to associate with Shouyou, like the murmured curses he says in Portuguese beneath his breath and the quiet drone of anime playing in the background.

Loving Shouyou is natural. It’s about as easy as breathing air, and as Tooru watches Shouyou who’s watching him, Tooru decides that he’s going to make his love known in the most obvious way possible. 

“Hey, Shouyou,” Tooru begins, and Shouyou hums to show that he’s listening before nuzzling his face into Tooru’s cheek. Tooru quietly laughs and leans over to peck him on the lips. “I love you.”

Shouyou’s eyes widen at his words, and he whips his head around to stare at Tooru. His mouth is agape, as if he could barely believe that Tooru had uttered such words, but he’s gazing at him in wonder and there’s a wide smile stretching across his face.

Shouyou tackles him into a hug without warning, knocking Tooru back against the couch as he peppers Tooru’s face with dozens of kisses.

“Tooru, Tooru, Tooru,” Shouyou murmurs like a mantra in between each kiss. “I love you, I love you too.” 

And Tooru—Tooru’s heart fucking  _ swells.  _ He pulls Shouyou into a kiss, one that is slow and languid and filled with everything that is them and this, Tooru thinks, is what makes the distance between them worth it.

* * *

Shouyou settles into Tooru’s home easily. He's only visiting for the weekend, unable to put off work for any longer than that, but he moves around the space Tooru's made for himself like he belongs there, as if it were his own.

Shouyou brews them each a cup of tea, fluttering about the kitchen grabbing a kettle, cups, and tea leaves. It's early enough in the day that it would still be considered morning, and Shouyou asks if Tooru's eaten breakfast yet.

"I haven't." Tooru mumbles, idly blowing his nose. "Was going to, but then you showed up."

Shouyou positively beams at his response and promptly pulls out a pan from the cupboards. Tooru already knows where this is going, so he heaves himself off the couch and shuffles over to stand beside Shouyou, who’s already in the process of pulling food out of the fridge to prepare for cooking.

There is familiarity in this, in the way they maneuver around the kitchen, dancing around each other to avoid collisions in order to get work done and to have breakfast ready in time. Shouyou’s at the stove, cooking up a storm while Tooru’s off to the side chopping up vegetables at his request. He puts on a random playlist that he has saved to his phone while chopping up green peppers, lets the music blast from powerful speakers that bring the room to life with catchy beats and lyrics that are larger than life.

Tooru sings along to the music which ranges from upbeat pop songs that rank at the top of the charts to sappy love songs that have become timeless with age. He serenades Shouyou, belting the lyrics out in a tone so horribly off-key it has Shouyou doubling over in laughter, giggles echoing off of cream colored walls and bouncing off of the pan sizzling away on the stove. 

The song fades out and the next one begins. Cheery pop to soft violin. Tooru sweeps Shouyou up into a slow dance, hips swaying with the beat as he lowers his voice, softens it until he’s singing in the right key. Shouyou hums along, presses his forehead against Tooru’s and closes his eyes. 

He sways in time with Tooru, matching his every move, his every step, his every breath. He settles into Tooru like he belongs there, and maybe it’s because he does. Tooru’s hands on his waist, Shouyou’s arms around his neck. Shouyou falls into step with Tooru, and Tooru lets Shouyou take the lead as he twirls them around the small kitchen with a spring in his step and a warm smile upon his face.

But the eggs are burning and there’s the acrid smell of charred food tickling Tooru’s nose rising up from the pan on the stove. Tooru freezes in place, and Shouyou’s eyes widen. The eggs are still burning, and the music echoes in the silence of the kitchen.

They throw themselves at the stove in a bid to salvage breakfast, and though their food that day is a little bit charred it’s still edible and still okay because to Tooru this is the brightest morning he’s ever had in a long while.

* * *

Tooru spends the day giving Shouyou a tour of all of his favourite places in Argentina. He lives in the city of Buenos Aires, and Tooru’s lived here long enough to know the streets by heart and to be able to navigate them in his sleep. 

He takes Shouyou sightseeing, showing him all the wonderful displays in La Boca and visiting the Caminito Street Museum. Shouyou eyes the colorfully painted houses with awe and ogles the assortment of items sold at the marketplace as they pass them by. They dine in at cafes and buy snacks from local street vendors, offering each other bites of their own respective treats as they take a leisurely stroll down by the Riachuelo.

They tour Recoleta to appreciate the history and the architecture and then visit Palermo to see the botanical gardens. Shouyou is about as lovely as the flowers they encounter, and Tooru takes a picture of him with the sun at his back and a field of wildflowers.

They leave the gardens as evening starts to settle in, and though visiting Belgrano was originally on the list for them to visit, they’ve spent enough time wandering around the city today and Tooru figures he could always show Shouyou the sights the next time he decides to visit.

They return home later that evening and spend the time cooking a hearty dinner for two. Tooru breaks out a bottle of wine because although he has practice the next day and shouldn’t be drinking, it’s a special enough occasion for him to make an exception. Shouyou is looking at him with amusement dancing in his eyes, but he doesn’t complain when Tooru slides him a glass and takes a generous sip of it after they have toasted.

With stomachs full and bellies warm with the alcohol running through their veins, they fall into bed and allow their fingers to roam. They reacquaint themselves with each other, bodies coming together like puzzle pieces and pressing open mouthed kisses to unblemished skin, leaving marks that will fade with time but only in places they will have the pleasure of seeing.

They fall asleep later that night in each other’s arms, and as he drifts off to sleep Tooru thinks that this is the best surprise he could have ever asked for.

* * *

The day that Shouyou leaves Brazil for Japan is not something that Tooru is looking forward to, but Tooru knows that it is not fair for him to tie Shouyou down to the beaches where they've made their memories permanent, where Rio and Argentina have become such an inherently large part of them that it is, in essence, who they are as a person.

It is not just the physical reminders that tell a story of a life on the other side of the world with the gentle ocean waves and the sands that are neither cruel or kind. It is not just the sun-kissed skin and the freckles that dot the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks that tells a tale of struggle, of perseverance by willingly knocking himself down from the world above and all that he has ever known and starting from zero and building himself back up. 

It is the memories that Tooru holds of meeting Shouyou on the boardwalks of Rio on that fateful night and it is the memories of the sun in his eyes as he sets the ball to a man who, if he tried hard enough, could reach the sky. It is the memories of the sand beneath his feet as he dives for the ball the first time he's ever set foot on the beach, and it is the realization that comes with a chest full of laughter that the whole reason Tooru's ever made it this far to begin with is because he loves the sport with all his heart and the most fun he's ever had is when he gets to play it to his heart's content.

Rio is Shouyou as much as Argentina is Tooru, and just because Shouyou is leaving South America to return to a world where he knows he can thrive doesn't mean that he'll just forget the part of his life that lays here. They had made a promise to make things work and they weren't about to go back on it now.

It is the beginning of March and Shouyou is scheduled to leave later that week. Tooru takes a few days off from practice to help him pack up this chapter of his life and see him off onto the next.

Into the boxes go the mugs and the dishes. Into the boxes go the translated manga and DVDs. Into the boxes go the sheets that Tooru has spent countless nights in and the piles of clothing where Shouyou's treasured Karasuno jacket lays hidden among the stacks that are present. Tooru folds it with care, taking the time to smooth out any creases and wrinkles before setting it aside to tackle the rest of Shouyou's wardrobe that is filled with sweatshirts and tank tops and some of Tooru's own clothing too. 

Some hours later Tooru tapes shut the last of the boxes and glances around at a now empty room that was once full of memories and full of life. The walls are bare without pictures and the bed looks as if it has never been slept in. The desk is void of the countless health and wellness books that usually littered its surface, and the journal that Shouyou kept his notes in is neatly tucked away in one of his many numerous bags. 

The room is empty, but strangely enough it is not upsetting. The lack of Shouyou in this room does not make Tooru depressed nor does it make his chest ache with loss. There is a certain sense of pride that is welling up in his veins, a giddiness that Tooru can only attribute to his excitement at the prospect of Shouyou starting on the next stage of his life. 

He's content that Shouyou is finally setting out to do what he loves and Tooru is happy for him and will support him with every fiber of his being because even though they will be miles apart and with several hours between them, Tooru knows that Shouyou will not forget about him and the pieces of Rio and Argentina that have become a part of him.

Tooru sees Shouyou off at the airport later that weekend and watches as he says goodbye to his friends that Tooru has had the pleasure of meeting and getting to know throughout the course of the year. There are the encouraging  _ do your best  _ goodbyes from Lucio, the  _ hope to see you soon  _ from his neighbour and her son, the heartfelt hugs from Nice and Heitor and finally the tearful goodbyes from Pedro. 

Shouyou leaves his goodbye to Tooru for last and Tooru thinks that the sadness in his eyes does not match the smile on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, but Tooru is the one who steps forward and pulls him into a hug so tight it feels almost as if he could imprint the shape of Shouyou into his very soul.

"Take care of yourself over there, Shouyou." Tooru murmurs as he presses a kiss to his forehead. "Message me when you get there, okay?"

And Shouyou melts into his embrace. His fingers tighten and twist into the back of Tooru's shirt and his shoulders shake a bit from attempting to withhold his tears, but Shouyou does not cry. He does not cry nor does he make a sound, and when he finally pulls back some minutes later there is the familiar fire burning in his eyes and the gentle hum of determination that Tooru knows must be singing through his veins.

Shouyou smiles and it is like the sun is coming out of hiding to play, parting the clouds that covered the world with a wash of gray and illuminating it in shades of gold, painting the ground with color and bringing it to life.

"Only if you message me to let me know you got back to Argentina safe and sound." Shouyou teases.

Tooru laughs and leans down to capture his lips, kissing him with all the love that he could muster in this body of his that is made of nothing but flesh and bones and the love that he has for one Hinata Shouyou.

"Always." Tooru hums.

"Always." Shouyou agrees like he is hooking his pinky through Tooru's in the way that children often do to signal a promise that will never be broken whether it be within this lifetime or the next.

They release each other and Tooru says his own goodbyes to Lucio, to Heitor and Nice and Pedro and their neighbours before giving Shouyou one last hug and kiss. They set off towards the gates hand in hand and split off at the halfway point, Shouyou going one way and Tooru the other. 

Their eyes meet as they both glance over their shoulder one last time before they disappear from sight, and Tooru blows a kiss in Shouyou’s direction and Shouyou humours him by catching it with his fingers. He gives him one last wave before they both turn away, and as Tooru is boarding his flight later that afternoon he knows that he has one of the widest grins he's ever had upon his face.

* * *

Tooru never could have imagined that his life could have taken such a sudden turn, could have never imagined that a chance encounter could have brought about such a change in everything that he’s ever known and more.

Brazil starts to feel like a lifetime ago, but the time spent there with Shouyou at his side is one that holds a special place in his heart, frozen in time and forever eternal.

Tooru stays put in Argentina doing what he’s always done while Shouyou blazes a path through the volleyball world like a comet, hurtling at speeds so quickly it is almost hard to follow. But Tooru has had almost a lifetime of experience keeping up with the meteorite that is Shouyou, who has tilted Tooru's world off of its axis more times than he could count on one hand.

And here Shouyou was once again, shifting the very world itself as Tooru stands upon the courts back in Japan for the first time in years across from his beloved and a whole team of people he both knows and doesn’t.

Shouyou rushes across the court like a hurricane to reach him and tackles him into a hug that tips him off balance and pulls him into a kiss so passionate it has Tooru feeling weak in the knees. Shouyou doesn’t mind the fact that they are being filmed and televised live for the world to see, but then again Tooru doesn’t quite care either. 

It's not like their relationship is a secret or a surprise to anyone. It’s not a surprise to the people back in Rio or Argentina or their family and friends located here in Japan. It is not a surprise to any of Shouyou's teammates or even to Iwaizumi who Tooru has spent a childhood with and who more or less makes up one half of Tooru's whole. It is especially not a surprise to the world, because the name emblazoned upon Shouyou's back is not Hinata, and the matching rings upon their fingers are enough of a testament to the world that their lives are made up of a lifetime of forever and more.

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes thinking about oikawa tooru is akin to going through the five stages of grief except youre not really grieving and youre just kinda thinking about him and it all starts with seeing oikawa, to thinking about oikawa, to loving oikawa, to crying over oikawa before finally getting hit over the head with a baseball bat as he lovingly body slams you the moment you hit chapter 402 wherein he then _tenderly_ drapes a banner in seijoh blue over your shoulders decorated with the words _rule the court_ to show you that he cares. 
> 
> im really goin through it, if you cant tell
> 
> heres my [twitter](https://twitter.com/zantetsvkens) and my [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/zantetsvkens) which i only just remembered that i had lmao


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